


Such Beauty untold

by Serpentina1



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Comfort, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Secrets, First Love, Forbidden Love, Hate to Love, Redemption, Romance, Slow Build, Sneaking around in the dungeons, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpentina1/pseuds/Serpentina1
Summary: When King Joffrey heads down towards the dungons after the infamous Battle of Blackwater Bay, he is eager to bask in the sight of his captives.He is to face a serious surprise within the shadowy cells of the Red Keep though, since there is definitely more to his ‘cousin’, the Princess Shireen, than a first glance at her Grey Scale blemished cheek would suggest. At least he might become a Baratheon for real in the process...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations written by G.R.R. Martin. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
> The plot of this fiction is all mine, though.

~ _Shireen_ ~

Shireen Baratheon had always loved the sight of the sea, rushing against the shores of Dragonstone. Beautiful colours of grey, bottle-green and stormy blue, crowned with highlights of white that kept rolling against the coast and the steep cliffs below the castle in a never ending rhythm of threat and allure, their roiling thundering never coming to rest even at the peaceful times of a summer’s night. Their constant powerful tune had been her own cradle song, lulling her to sleep in place of a mother’s voice.

There were no such steep cliffs, no harsh rocking waves around the Bay of King’s Landing. Nonetheless the sea was an enemy around here – a menace.  Tonight she was afraid of the dark, bottomless waters below the ship, no matter how far from the Battle it did cast anchor.

Tonight’s sea was nothing like Shireen Baratheon was used to – nothing at all! 

The blazing green fire of Blackwater Bay was a dreadful sight.

Terrifying.

She could not truly comprehend what was happening to herself, nor the others anymore. All of it was happening so quickly – way too fast to fathom. Her head was spinning in confusion as she turned around.

The one moment she recalled standing next to her mother atop the deck of the ‘Sea Serpent’ - one last moment of fragile peace and safety, while she was regarding her father’s and Ser Davos’ ships in the far distance. 

Then all of a sudden – from out of nowhere – the green enclosed.

There was nothing else. Nothing but – green – all around. A blazing force of destruction that was spreading across the water’s surface in matters of –seconds – all the way from the bay, rushing into the far distance of their stay upon the waves of open water.

So fast.

She did not even realise what was about to happen until the first flames were smoldering at the ship’s bottom. From there on there was no haltering – no escape... 

Fire took over within a heartbeat. 

Fire on the planks of the ship. 

Fire within the cloths and hair of anyone around. 

Just and nothing but fire – everywhere... 

After a split second – that had kept her paralyzed with shock – the will to live took over. Therefore, before she even realised what she was doing, Shireen Baratheon dived overboard into the one patch of ‘greenless’ sea she could find. The sheer force of the imprint took her breath away.

As soon as she broke the water’s surface the full force of what was happening hit her. Within an instant she was struggling for dear life, green all above her – deathly – impossible to cut surface. 

Air. 

She needed to breathe yet knew she could not – must not – dare to get out of the water. There was nothing but fire and destruction above her. Yet she got to breathe, so desperately. 

Still struggling to keep her head beneath the flaming waves, despite the desperate need for air, the world turned upside down for Shireen Baratheon, a faint tune from her childhood days echoing within her mind as she drifted off with the tide...

 

_It's always summer, under the sea_

_I know, I know, oh, oh, oh_

_The birds have scales, and the fish take wing_

_I know, I know, oh, oh, oh_

_The rain is dry, and the snow falls up_

_I know, I know, oh, oh, oh_

_The stones crack open, the water burns_

_The shadows come to dance, my lord_

_The shadows come to play_

_The shadows come to dance, my lord_

_The shadows come to stay…_

 

Effortlessly she sruggled and fought, until the shadows captured her indeed and she knew no more...

 

 

~ _Joffrey_ ~

 

The first rays of the new morning, he had never expected to see, peered above the towers of the Red Keep and into Blackwater Bay to unveil the dreadful battle’s destruction to full degree. 

More than a dozen ships had been crushed into the strand. Their sorched and torn planks and tattered splinters of their masts were littering the bay. Several wrackages were even still illuminated by the rest of that dreadfull flickering green. There were more dead bodies he had ever imagined to see. Some of them were floating in the water with those unnatural green flames still licking at the remains of their cloths.

The clearing up work had already begun, but it might be weeks, if not months until a halfway baerable situation in the capital might be reastored. Not to mention its erstwhile decadent palatial imperience. 

In spite of the finally lucky outcome of the battle, Joffrey Baratheon was anything but pleased. 

He was more than aware of the fact that there had been nothing glorious or kingly in his actions the previous night. He had been paralysed with fear in the face of battle.  At the same time he was angry at Tyrion for holding off the troops in his place. Angry at his grandfather and his army for turning the coin instead, even if he had been releved beyond reasoning, back then. 

In those final, dreadful minutes before his grandfather’s arrival, when he had expected the capital to fall to the fury of Stannis Baratheon’s forces – he had not seen any hope of surviving the night at all.  

And it had been just then – in a rare moment of clarity – that he did truly reflect upon a couple of things, apart from his self centredness.  

It had been back then – in fear of certain death – that he did realise the failure in his attempts to be a regent – his cowardice. More throughly than he might have ever done otherwise.  He had been aware of the fact that – no matter of how much he might try to hide – there was not a single place in the entire city Stannis Baratheon would not find him and he had been captured by unreasonable fear. But – for once – he had just as well worried about his mother and even about anoying little Tommen – and even had been glad to know that his brat of a sister was far away at Dorne at the same time. 

It had been an experience so strange that he was simply unable to understand and now that dawn broke into a new morning, he already felt ashamed about it.  

Nonetheless the experience had been there and it did leave an imprint of regret and shame within his very soul, no matter how hard he might try to ignore it. 

Now however Joffrey Baratheon was back to his senses, determined to cover up for such weaknesses. Word had reached him that Stannis Baratheon and his daughter were amongst the captives.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that’s were we come from. Pretty hopeless case for all it looks like. And their parents are hardly any better, I asume. I can not see Stannis inviting Cersei for tea or vice versa. But well, if you are not entirely deterred by the strangeness of the pairing, just lean back and watch as the story enfolds into the tender romance I intend it to bloom into. : /
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy. Please let me know what you think of this. Your feedback is highly apreciated. 
> 
> Lots of thanks to SebastiansGleek for beta reading!
> 
> Serpentina
> 
> PS: Just for those who might not know: The song is not mine either. It is called ‘It’s always summer under the sea’ and can be heared at the end of episode 5 in season 3.


	2. OPENING - King's Gambit Declined

~Joffrey~

 

Close by the throne room the vast stairway led down to the dungeons like ever before.

The atmosphere was gruesome, oppressive and almost wraithlike – as it used to be. But now, in remembrance of the chaos and destruction at the bay it was almost unsettling to find all this down here so utterly unchanged in its creepiness.

The air was slightly stale as usual and dust floated in the sparse streams of sunlight that reached down here.

With each step he took, the noise and brightness of the world up there seemed to ebb away – giving room to the echoing sound of his footsteps and alloing the deep shades to creep out of every nook.

The scenery’s subtle charm was still present. Even now.

Pearl white the dragon skulls stood out from the dim twilight surrounding them. Gigantic and monstrous they lay in the place they used to – unchanged. Threatening and intimidating beyond death.

Never before had he even _attempted_ to imagine an attack by a creature like that... not even remotely… How much more dreadful and terrifying than anything he had seen the night before – real dragon fire had to be? Yet, he failed to imagine anything more terrible than those greedy green-flickering flames of destruction.

Many a thing was peculiar on this very morning. To even see it approach and actually progress into another day was a surprise to begin with.

 

~~

 

When they had been younger, he and Myrcella had snuck down here at times, vying with each other about who dared to proceed farthest to contemplate the creatures’ impressive skulls. A dare that used to give them a pleasant scare and had made him feel superior at the sight of his younger sibling’s anxiety.

And yet – it had been her, who had proven herself to be more courageous than him often enough.

They had not even come close to any of the captives, of course, nonetheless he had been aware that he should not have led her astray like that. They had kept these adventurous escapades carefully to themselves, of course, since they both knew well enough that they were not allowed to approach a place like that – let alone in secret and all by themselves.

And it had been the secrecy that had come along with it that had added to the heavy thrill they had felt about the matter. It certainly was one of his more carefree childhood memories. The both of them had valued the rare chance to break free from their mother’s overbearing influence and fierce protection, at least occasionally and do – as it felt back then – something really dangerous and scary.

Once however little Tommen must have snuck up on them, without either of their notice – as he confessed in a sobbing heap of nightmare plagued misery and – neither his mother’s seething lecture, nor his father’s reprovement to follow had been a very pleasant encounter, indeed.

They might not have given up upon their habitual disobedience, nonetheless, but from then on his sister had been ordered to spend much more time under the watchful eye of her Septa, while his own, ever-present shepherd alias ‘I am no knight – Clegane’ had made sure the daring experience would not repeat for him, either.  

Now the scenery surrounding him appeared to be even more eerie and unreal and was definitely tend to raise his hackles, in spite of the Kingsguard following him.

 

~~

 

Past the dragon skulls the light became even more dim and faint. Fewer torches illuminated the craggy tunnel walls the deeper they descended. Raw steps crafted from the rock itself that lead far down into the darkness.

Sinister. Black. Endless.

Soon enough the torches’ flickering light upon the soot-blackened walls was the only light around and the further he approached the more halting and hesitant his steps became.

As the stairs wound further down last night’s terrors crept back into his mind, unbidden but with irresistible force and now - excitement and the flush of victory aside – an oppressive feeling was creeping up on him at the sight of the flickering, guttering fire shine.

And so he turned to catch a glimpse of the man who used to watch out for him his entire life, instinctively.

Now however – as he gazed back to reassure himself of his ever-present guardian he looked upon a different face. Less louring, but queerly passionless, bearded and frighteningly strange within its ‘scarlessnes’.

With Clegane deserted from the battle of the Blackwater, it was the face of Ser Meryn Trant that appeared in the dimness behind him, when he turned his head, now.

The prospect to abandon his plans appeared to become an option more and more desirable with each minute passing and it was the persistent, nagging feeling of humiliation alone that forced him to move forward. Step by step.

The perception filled him with a mixture of frustration and furious bitterness all the same.

He would not back out. Not now that he had come this far. He must not allow himself to show such weaknesses ever again.  

 

~~

 

Their way now lead them through gloomy, damp passages where water ran down the craggy walls and he could make out the oorie, wretched guises of captives cowering on the remains of damp, rotting straw that blinked against the torchlight as they passed.

This certainly was no place to harbour a prisoner any longer than a few weeks of time. Its only purpose was to evoke fear and revulsion to wear a captive down.

So he had been told.

But now that he actually saw it…

It appeared to be utterly impossible to last around here even longer than a few days of time. Let alone – weeks. A dreadful, terrifying thought to imagine any other….

Unlike the backward part of the dungeon, right beneath the Red Keep, where the more important prisoners were kept.  

The heavily bolted entrance gate was guarded by tree members of the City Watch, who respectfully inclined their heads when they saw him approach. They remained right in place as they passed, however and no one accompanied him, with the exception of Ser Meryn who followed his every step like a shadow.  

Surveying and interrogations of those arrested in here did take place between four – six eyes – at the utmost.

In here only the most important prisoners were kept. Those captives, promising fortunate negotiations, ransom demands or other – political benefits. Ned Stark had been held captive in these part of the dungeons, once... and... As he was forced to grudgingly admit; he had definitely acted without proper thought, back then.

A mistake he did not intent to repeat…  

The favour of having his erstwhile frightening enemy _and_ his marred freak of a daughter at his mercy was a prospect so sweet and compelling that it made up for a lot of last night’s fear and humiliation. He certainly would not rob himself of the opportunity of satisfaction by a precipitant beheading, but intended to glory in his superiority to the fullest.

Nonetheless, his captives would make amends for all of last night’s terror and the humiliation, incurred. The mere idea of it caused him to quicken his steps in anticipation. It was just what he needed to feel comfortable again. He was convinced of it.

 

~~

 

It was dark in this part of the dungeons, too. Dark and chilly. But the walls did not glister around here, sodden with the gleam of wetness. Sectionally deep, pitch black darkness surrounded them, tend to spoil any captive’s chances of a flight, however impossible it might be in the first place. The walls themselves seemed to be humming with silence around here and the scrapping sound of their footsteps was echoing hollowly in the empty passageway.

There were light- and air wells in between, however that led faint glimpses of twilight across the rocky walls. Down here the cells were disconnected from each other to separate the captives to a most possible degree. It had to be difficult to make oneself noticeable to a fellow captive at best, if not right out impossible.

Quite in contrast to the ‘common’ part of the dungeon, most of the cells were unoccupied around here.

Therefore surprise was on him, when he discerned the presence of another being from one of the cells to his left and he instinctively turned his head at the source of the sudden an unexpected detection.

In fear of another streak of hesitation he forbade himself to slow down his steps for a closer examination however and all he managed to accomplish was the vague, fragile outline of a female that hardly differed from the shadows surrounding them.

Cousin Shireen, most likely. But not the target of his interest – for now.

 

~Stannis~

 

Monotonous and enervating a drop of water kept hitting the stony ground.

Perpetual…

It had been the first thing for him to notice when he had woken a couple of hours before – and for a long while – this special sound remained the only noise in the pitch black darkness surrounding him.

Within a darkness so black and endless… so…deep and merciless, it was truly gruesome… It was…. disconcerting.

_~~_

He could not tell how much time had passed since the battle. A battle he lost.  The impact of Wildfire had been disastrous and the casualties tremendous. With grim determination they had approached the shore and stormed the gate, nonetheless. They were already climbing and capturing the city walls – and would have succeeded for sure – when a sudden clash of swords had told another story.

If it had not been for the arrival of Tywin Lannister and his troops…

One of the last things he remembered was the sight of scarlet and gold. A glut of Lannister soldiers overrunning his army.

He also remembered his men, as they tried to grab him, still his arms and drag him away from the battle. He had struggled… fought… raved… eager to keep on fighting and entirely unwilling – unable – to back off…determined to succeed or die trying… until a blow to the head had knocked him out of action - literally.

They did not succeed, he assumed…

It was difficult to tell where – _exactly_ – he was, due to the pitch black darkness surrounding him, but the chains, encompassing his wrists gave a fairly good suggestion it might be in a dungeon.

As the further examination of his closest surroundings did. As matters were, he was able to rise to his feet – and even to take a couple of steps forward into the black nothingness that stretched out in front of him, before the chains at his wrists restricted his movements.

Therefore his hands had kept frisking his immediate proximity, but could find nothing but raw bedrock, wall and ground alike with the only exception of a straw covered ledge to rest upon.

He had called for his captors to come and face him. Many a time. For his men – Ser Davos in the first place, whom he trusted above all others. He had called out for his daughter, in the vague hope that at least Shireen might have made it out of the terrible inferno at the Blackwater Bay alive. Even for Selyse he had called – anyone – to give a sign of their presence.

There had been none – only his own voice echoing hollowly in the darkness – but no answer at all. No sign of another being anywhere around. So his voice alone had kept calling out over and over again – and whenever the echo had ebbed away, silence had been drowning on all around him.

Nothing else. With the exception of a drop of water to fall somewhere not very close by. Its constant, monotonous sound was dragging at his nerves already. Apart from that there was been nothing.

Only silence.

~~

 

Now however it was intercepted by the promising sound of slowly, but steadily approaching footsteps.  

One person. Two, possibly. What news they might bring? The prospect of the axe to fall? The opening of – negotiations? Torture? Which would not make any significant difference, as he assumed.

The chains encompassing his wrists clang as he covered his eyes against the sudden brightness of the torch.

He blinked.

Clad in a cloak of red velvet and golden brocades above a dark red leather chain mail the reason of his unsuccessful inversion looked upon him. A lean, juvenile figure – more boy than man – with the golden hair and the flawless but inapproachable beauty of his good sister and eyes as green as it could be expected from a true ‘Lion of the Rock’. But cold as ice. Malicious.

The boy looked nothing like his elder brother, passed. Not a _bone_ Baratheon within him, for sure! How she had managed to ever conceal the truth for so long was a miracle to him. But then – the eye of the beholder used to perceive matters at it expected them to be. Only that way it might have been even possible to begin with...

”Uncle,“ the juvenile voice echoed so mockingly, it belied the politeness of the words spoken. “How _pleasant_ to finally meet you.“

Stannis’ temper already rose at the boy’s impudence – alarming as this might be in the position he currently was in.

“I’m not your uncle,” he bit back with a streak of enervation, gritting his teeth.

His opponent however remained calm, almost disinterested as he remarked with fake regret and a casual rise of golden brows: “Ah! I supposed you might say that. So unfortunate...”

“Quite so, “ Stannis agreed with a scowl. “You are _not_ my nephew,” and then, with a tone of undeniable provocation as he raised his head to fully look at him: “Usurper king!”

The bully built King’s Guard accompanying the boy, stirred with the attempt to punish him, and Stannis already prepared for the blow to follow - clenching his teeth in grim determination to not buck away.

The bastard-king however dismissed the suggestion with a mere gesture of his hand, without even looking at the man.

His eyes still fixed on his captive he sneered: “Really! In such bad mood – _uncle_? Am I to understand you might not appreciate your chamber? It _is_ one of the very best locally. Not everyone can consider themselves this fortunate these days.”

At this he paused, to sigh – theatrically.

“You need to know that we had a real inrush of visitors, recently and – How shall I put it? Well, rather all of them appeared to be _on fire_ as soon as they entered the bay one might say…”

He sniggered with wicked kind of glee at his tasteless comment.

Stannis’ temper however sobered at these words. “What happened to them?” he asked tonelessly.

“To whom?“ his opponent taunted, clearly savouring his opponent’s agony, “the scorched corpses? Well – I _really_ hope someone will manage to remove them before the stench is about to get unbearable, but… as I say – there are many…”

“What about my ship!?“ Stannis cut in, sharply and urgently. “Is it… unscathed? Tell me!“

At this the malicious boy king narrowed his eyes on him, “Ship?“ he mocked, “Wait up! _You_ have no ships, valued uncle… No. _I_ have ships. Plenty of! Some more after the previous night, even. And – ” At this he paused for emphasise of his next words. “A – _lots of_ – wreckages…”

“Well, one or two might have gotten away, who knows...“ he added vaguely.

“The Sea Serpent?” Stannis asked with unconcealed urgency.

Silence was all the response he got.

“My wife?” he tried, fleetingly. Then, with a streak of unmasked worry and despair: “My daughter?!”

“You brought them with you?!” Golden brows raised in mock surprise. “That was a little – imprudent – wouldn’t you agree? So many ships in wreckage… how terrible…”

“The Sea Serpent!?” Stannis asked, tonelessly. “What about her!?!“

For an endless moment of dreadful suspense the boy merely stared – calmly and calculating, before he finally deigned to declare: “Likewise.“

Stannis hated himself for the strangled gasp of consternation that escaped his lips at this revelation, unwillingly.

„And... my family…” he tried once more. “What about... Them?”

A smug gesture of not knowing was the only response he got. Instead of an answer the bastard-king kept bathing in the sight of his captive’s agony.

“You – won’t tell me…” Stannis concluded with an air of contempt and resignation.

Emerald eyes narrowed upon him. “No,“ Joffrey verified, smoothly.

For another moment they merely stared at each other. 

“What _do_ you want then?!“ Stannis asked and for a moment, a feeble, fleeting moment, the boy looked not half as smug as he had before, but undetermined and almost – hesitant.

“You’d – really – like to know that, wouln’t you?” he stated rather stubbornly, covering up for his surprise.

“Yes. Exactly,” Stannis verified, gruffly. “Unfortunate that you wouldn’t know it yourself, though.”

“Of _course_ I do!” the usurper-king bit back, but this time the hesitation showed upon his features - undeniably.

“So then? Do tell me!” Stannis demanded, clearly enervated now. “So we might get this over with!”

Something seemed to snap within the boy-king that caused him to flow out with rogue, erratic temper, if only for a moment.

“You!” he suddenly spat. “You’re in no position to command _me_!”

“Ah...” Stannis concluded tauntingly, expecting him to snap even further at the dismissive tone of his voice. It might not be the wisest of movements in his current position, but he simply could not even fake any diplomacy.  

 _“Now,_ possibly?” the Kings Guard suggested, with a clear streak of anticipation, raising his hand, ironclad.

The bastard-king however dismissed him with a clear gesture of indignation once again.

“Not for now,” he declared haughtily, before he turned in a swish of red and gold of his velvet cloak.

And so, as his non-nephew’s footsteps echoed away, Stannis Baratheon remained in the dark- with only his apprehensions and nightmares for company.

With silence returned, he listened to the sound of another drop of water falling.

 

~Joffrey~

 

There was nothing hesitant or unassertive within his steps as he stormed back along the dungeons this time. Only annoyance… anger… and… indignation…

Even the darkness itself seemed to retreat from the red hot fury of his wrath that kept flickering back and forth – and it damn well better should!

He had every right to be furious. _Every_ right!

The dismissive way his uncle had spoken to him had… in fact… annoyed him. But the longer he thought about it… the more… It was entirely unacceptable. Worse than even Grandfather had ever dared to treat him.

How dare he?!

How fortunate the wretched scaly beast he called his daughter was arrested down here as well. It was just what he needed right now… He would tell her her place! He…

The small form of a girl stirred in the back of the cell as he came to a halt in front of the barred door. She sat up to look at him, blinking into the light after the darkness surrounding her.

As he stepped closer, he caught a glimpse of her features and there could not be a trace of doubt about her identity.  

With a mixture of fascination and abhorrence he contemplated her face and the grotesque band of grey sales that encompassed the left side of her face like a second skin. Starting from the forehead it ran all the way down across her temple and cheek captured her chin and followed the line of her neck from there to disappear into the unadorned, grey woollen dress she wore.

Truly expressional about her however was the absorbing gaze of her lively, baratheon-blue eyes. When she looked at him, mindfully, but without considerable fear, it did something to him. Something he could not name. She was…

She merely looked at him. Not judgingly. Neither frightened nor questioning, devoted nor provocative. She just looked at him calm, open, attentive and in a curious way he felt seen - exposed.    

He did not like the way she made him feel and yet, it gave him a thrill – startled and fascinated him all the same – and a fair part of his anger ebbed away without even noticing it, as he tried to fathom what _exactly_ all of this might be about. In an attempt to escape this mesmerising confusion rather than out of real malice he pushed forward. Instinctively.

“And you are?” he frowned, but stopped her, before she even stood the chance of a response. “Don’t say it! The glory of your _legendary beauty_ has rushed onto this shore before you. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, precious cousin. How could fate ever be so cruel to keep you from my eyes thus far!?”

Quite in contrast to his expectations for her to panic, wail, or bow her scaly head in humiliation, she remained calm and consent.

She must have expected no other. Must have foreknown him, to remain as calm as she did. In a way she was – more than creepy and it had nothing to do with those scales covering her cheek.

There had to be a way to get under her skin, however. To provoke or force a reaction – anything…

“Well, is there not a thing you might want to say to this?” he pushed, impatiently.

“Nothing of this even remotely correlates with the truth. This you know just as well, as I do.”

Her calm but honest response threw him off guard, if only for a second, before he threw another biting comment her way: “Well then – something – _does. B_ ut… No one can chose his family as it appears.“

“Too true, but of no matter for the topic at hand,” was her calm, but honest response.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?!“ he requested, brushing a streak of hair out of his forehead in a gesture of nervousness.

“You know fairly well, what I’m talking about” she plainly said at which he felt his blood boiling with rage once again. _‘The nerve of her…’_

“Harbouring a death wish?! Are you?“ he snapped.

Quite in contrast to what he might have expected, she took his words for a real question, apparently, overlooking the threat entirely and contemplating her words carefully before she finally declared: “Curious you might ask; At times the prospect of death seemed not to be threatening to me – But no, I certainly appreciate life and I’d very much like to see more of this world but dim dungeons or towers before it comes to a close.”

“Maybe you should choose your words more carefully, then!“ he growled.

“Would that grant any difference?”

Her voice was pleasant, he noted with no little dismay – soft sounding – without the obvious attempt of being naive or manipulative. She was... _It_ was fascinating. All of this….

She confused him more than anything… And her gaze... So intense… not exceptionally friendly, but fearless and without rejection…

It took a couple of seconds before he realised she must have asked him a question. In fact he had been so preoccupied with his contemplation that he had missed it entirely. She had to repeat her question, before he realised she was talking to him all the same.

“My parents,” she requested, with a streak of hopefulness that did not seem to suit her erstwhile impression. “Ser Davos… ‘The onion knight’?” she asked.

“Well,” he declared with an affected drawl: “O _ne_ of them we _do_ have here…”

“Alive?” she gasped, breathlessly and once again he caught himself nodding in response, before he could think better of it.

Why was he nodding? And why was _she_ questioning _him_ at all?

“What about the others” she requested, still breathlessly.

This time he merely shrugged in a fake gesture of nescience, a cruel, consented smile forming on his features. “Whom?” he drawled, apparently carelessly. Now that she had shown weaknesses he could handle her. Finally!

“You tell me!” he demanded with a vulpine, slightly derisive smile.

“My father,“ she concluded instantly and to his immense surprise.

At this he felt his anger boil up all over again. “How do you know!? Who told you!?“ he snapped.

Calmly she looked upon him. “No one did such a thing. But what other value I might have in your eyes? You tell me?”

Confusion captured him once more at the amount of clarity and calm radiating from her. “What… are you talking about?” he stammered, utterly confused now.

“You intend him to accept your claim to the throne,” she declared with the same forbearing calm that caused to confuse him so badly. No judgement…as if merely stating a fact.

Once again Joffrey Baratheon found himself at a loss of words staring at his peculiar cousin in utter confusion, but before he could loose another trade of barbs with her, he chose to retreat – for now. At his leave he hurried, well-nigh stormed along the dark tunnels and out of the dungeons with a flabbergasted, Kingsguard in toe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: While in the Game of Thrones universe, 'Cyvasse' has a preference, to me the desired statement of my characters and the development of their actions seem to be better served by a conventional chess game.
> 
> Like a chess game, this story also consists of the parts: opening, middle game and endgame.
> 
> I am entirely thankful for the lovely, encouraging feedback you granted me so far and I hope you’ll enjoy this new chapter as well. Please let me know what you think about it. 
> 
> Lots of thanks to SebastiansGleek for beta reading!
> 
> Serpentina


End file.
